His named had been Wryn. She knew this because the second man she killed yelled his name. Amina's first kill was not glamorous, or exciting. It was not done for honour or vengeance. She wasn't looking for treasure, or saving anyone. Her first kill had been clumsy, brutal, and left her in tears.
Bandits had attacked her and Erik, a short way away from Rorikstead. She thought they were just men wandering the road at first, but Erik knew better. Wandering Skyrim for a thrill left you with a keen eye for trouble, and a keener nose for bandits.
They came from all directions, like a storm of crows. Their movements were chaotic, hap-hazard, incredibly brash and incredibly deadly. She didn't know how she managed to get out alive, but somehow she did.
She took out her scimitar from a man's stomach, and puked over the road. Erik rubbed comforting circles on her back as she sobbed, hands digging into the dirt, face half-mauled with cuts she didn't even know how she got. The taste of blood hung in the air and from the roof of her mouth.
"People often talk about the stench of death. They seldom talked about how it tastes" She supposed Erik meant it as some sort of comfort, but it came up short of its intended destination. She continued crying while spitting the blood that kept pooling in her mouth. She had bit her tongue during the fight, scared beyond comprehension at these wild men with even wilder eyes.
It had been, Erik said, an easy fight. They went down easily. To Amina, that seemed like a lie. All she knows is that in the blur of motion and blood, the fight seemed to take forever. She was incredibly frightened, trembling with one hand gripping her sword and the other her shield.
There had been six men. Amina had killed two, while Erik took care of the rest, like a Nord whirlwind of expertise. Truthfully, his movements were a bit clumsy, but compared to Amina's own, she thought of him impossibly skilled.
Finally, she settled down. Her tears stopped, and she and Erik walked a while and then settled in the grass. They had been on the road for less than a day, and Amina was starting to reconsider her decision.
She enjoyed the fight, very much so. She enjoyed fighting when it was done friendly, when she knew that even if she found herself pinned and weapon-less, she'd be alright. The spars with Erik made her feel alive.
This kind of fighting, fighting done for her life? It made her feel somewhere between dead and alive, tiptoeing between Nirn and Oblivion, one foot in each. She was hyperaware of her surroundings, and she knew that one bad move would send her beyond mortal grasp. It was exciting, but it was incredibly frightening.
She fell in love with the sensation, but she knew she'd never want to do it again. She would have, true, but she didn't know if she'd ever come to enjoy it without feeling like she was losing herself. How was she supposed to become an adventurer if she didn't enjoy fighting?
"Is it always like this, cousin? Felling like you're going to die any moment? Scared shitless and shocked beyond your own self?" she gingerly touched her face. There were gashes all over her right cheek, raw and bleeding. She started healing them slowly, but she knew they'd scar.
Erik sighed, his face half obscured by the tall grass they were laying in. Messer and Secunda were going down to rest, leaving space for the sun to come up. His answer came with the first burst of light puncturing the night.
"The first few times are always like that. My first kill was a mage who attacked me and my employer when we got too close to the Ritual stone. I puked afterwards on the guy's own bowels. The second and third time were better. By the fourth, you get used to it. You start internalizing the fact that you are doing this for the greater good."
"What greater good?"
"Look, choose your jobs, or your adventures, well and you will be doing good in the world with every death. Those bandits we just killed? They rape and pillage every day. The world is better off without them. As long as you make the right choice, you killing will bring a relief into the world."
"So, you're saying that I have a duty to kill to better the world, or something?"
"Well, if you're going to fight and kill, might as well do it for a good reason, no?"
She shrugged. She sighed as she finished healing the last of her scrapes and cuts. She always loved the feeling of healing herself with magic. It was like warm water was poured over her skin, a soothing heat that always left her light headed when she was done.
She remembered the story of a crazy mage who kept cutting himself just to get the high of restoration and magicka depletion. He started with little cuts at first, but as he got better at restoration and his magicka pool got bigger, he started cutting longer, deeper. First with knives, then with blades, in the intimacy of his own hut. He bled profusely and profoundly just to seek that one high. In the end, it was his own undoing, as his magicka reservoir dried up before he could end up healing himself. She shuddered at the thought.
"We should get going. Still, you never told me where you wanted to go."
Amina shrugged. "I…I never thought about it."
"What?"
"I…just wanted to get out. I never thought about where. I mean, I knew I wanted you to go on the road to somewhere with me, but I never got the occasion to think of the destination."
Erik rubbed his forehead. "Seriously?"
"Mhm. I know I just want…to get better at this. Fighting I mean. It was…incredibly scary. But thrilling! I felt so alive. And as you said, I might do good in the world. I don't want to be a per hire like you, because it's not my thing. I'd not feel comfortable with strangers."
"You don't even know what you want."
"Not really. I just wanted something thrilling."
Erik sighed, running a hand through his hair. It was matted a bit with blood.
"Do you want me to heal those scratches and cuts for you?"
"No, thanks. You know I don't like magic all that much. Do it on yourself all you want, I'd rather not have it."
"Suit yourself, but if they get infected it's your fault."
A beat of silence. Amina breathed in the cool night air. It was pleasant, camping out.
"So, what now?" Amina asked.
" You could join up with The Companions, in Whiterun."
"I've heard of them. Honour, companionship, brotherhood. Or something like that."
"They are good men and women, from what I've heard. They only take up good causes. They kill bandits, rescue nobles' kin or common folk, liberate villages and intimidate those who step out of line. Things like that. Good reasons, mostly. I heard the pay is good, too."
"So why didn't you join up?"
"I don't like routine. I didn't become an adventurer for hire to follow rules. But I think it would suit you."
"Why?"
He laughed. "Look at you! You need all the training you can get. You want adventure? Go to The Companions. It's the safest type of adventuring there is, and the most thrilling, if you can stand the sturdiness and authority of a guild. I would, if I'd have a mind for listening to other people."
"Ok, Whiterun's Companions it is then."
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"We're lost."
"We're not lost, we're on the right track...just a little sideways, probably."
Amina looked at the marshes beyond, spanning across the land and into the horizon. There was a certain moistness clinging to their skin, cold nipping at their fingers and noses. A sparse fog covered the land, making the vegetation a blur. She half expected some sort of swamp creature to jump at them, to add insult to injury.
They had been on the road for two days. Supposedly, they should have been in Whiterun by now. Supposedly, because as far as Erik told her, Whiterun sat snugly between hills and plains, not in the murky waters of a never-ending marshland.
"We should've bought a map." She said, huffing.
"I know my way through this hold, goddamnit. I've done this road a thousand times."
"We are lost, Erik."
"We are not lost."
Their argument was interrupted by wandering lights in front of them, followed by a creaking caravan with wheels as large as giant mudcrabs. In front were two Khajit warriors, tall and with swishing tails, with fluffy ears and impressive whiskers. Amina didn't know whether to find them predatorily beautiful or intimidating.
"We should ask them." She suggested, looking in the direction of the Khajit.
"Approaching merchants in the middle of the night? Do you want to get robbed?"
"Da' told me that Khajit merchants are rarely dangerous."
"Your Da also told you that mudcrabs can kill a man. Anyone on the road is dangerous, beast or man."
Amina silently fumed at his lack of trust in people's good faiths. "I still think we should ask. We're lost."
"We're not lost."
They heard a laughter to their right. The caravan was slowly passing them by, and the Khajit were having a jolly good time listening to their argument.
"This one believes everything is dangerous on the road, including little girls who have too much faith in the good of man, mer, and beast." Said one of them, his whiskers trembling in laughter. "However, this one happens to like helping lost adventurers. How can Khajit be of service?"
Amina took the opportunity and approached him. "We need to get to Whiterun, but I think we're a long way from there…or at least so does this damned humidity and marshlands suggest."
"Whiterun? You're in Hjaalmarch."
Erik sputtered. "Gods damnit, we took the wrong road! North instead of east!"
"I told you we were lost, but noooo…."
Erik sighed. "Ah, well. How close to Morthal are we?"
"Close. Two hours of walking upwind, on this very same road." The Khajit replied, slowly stroking his whiskers. "Nightfall could however befall you before getting there, so make haste."
Erik took out 5 septims from his purse, took the Khajit's furry hand, and pushed the cold coins into his palm. Closing his hand, he firmly shook it and bowed slightly. "Thank you, Khajit friend."
"To you as well, traveler. Your generosity is most appreciated."
As the caravan continued its journey, Erik whispered to Amina:
"Rule one of the road: generosity makes you friends. Be kind to man, mer and beast alike and you'll find lots of allies. Related to rule two: nothing comes for free, so settle your debts early on."
"Really? How did you learn that one?"
"Got jumped by some bandits on my way to Markarth one day. I was returning from a job. I would've been dead meat if some Argonians hadn't stepped in for me. They were the same Argonians I had helped weeks past in Solitude, and they remembered my kindness."
Amina nodded. She thought how different the road was from Rorikstead. In town, kindness was given freely. Everyone knew each other, and thus, being kind cost nothing and helped the town as a whole. On the road, she realised, nobody owed you nothing, and kindness was not a right to receive, but a privilege.
However, Amina felt a bit sick at the thought of gentleness and kindness viewed as currency. Some viler than her would probably see an open door full of Machiavellic opportunities. Amina felt like it was a truth she would have rather have faced later than sooner. To know kindness is currency is to be suddenly aware of the weight of generosity and debt, and that's not easy to balance.
As if sensing her inner struggle, Erik put a hand on her shoulder, and snuggled her close to him. "Don't be so tense, cousin. You can return home any time you want, if you dislike adventuring. The road may be hard, but it welcomes all, no matter if they come or go."
"Aye, but even if I dislike it I'll probably not return home just to not admit to my parents that they were right."
Erik laughed.
They walked.
In the middle of the road, surrounded by the mist lingering low, was a form hunched over itself. Erik furrowed his brows, and shushed Amina, while taking out his weapon slowly. Amina did the same, but with her bow. One thing she had learned from the bandit attack is that mixed ranged attacks worked best.
The creature gave a yelp, and ran towards them. Out of the fog sprang out a dog, as large as half of Amina while sitting. All wag-tailed and wide-eyed, it seemed rejoiced at company, and couldn't contain its excitement, moving between Erik and Amina at lighting speed, jumping on them, barking like mad.
Amina petted his head and stroked his ears. "Hi, pup! Whose might you be, hmm?"
"Seems like a stray, but it's too friendly to people…"
The dog started to bite at Amina's armour and try and drag her from the road. Since she was quite small and light, it almost succeeded.
"Do you want us to follow you, boy?" she asked. The dog gave an enthusiastic yelp.
They made their way through the grassland and marsh. What an odd party they must've made, with momma dog ahead with its human hatchlings following, like a goose waddling through grass with its kin.
Their destination made Amina sniffle and brush a few tears. The dog's name was Meeko, as said by a note left from the previous owner.
In the moment, Amina knew that she could never part from Meeko. He needed someone to love him, and thankfully, she had plenty of love to give.
"Think we're going to make a warhound out of him yet?" Erik asked, laughing as Amina knelt besides the dog and asked him gently to come with her…as if the dog could understand, he thought.
And so, their party of two became three. In earnest, Erik was happy they found the dog. Amina was eager, but a tad craven when it came to things bigger and better than her. That category incidentally comprised anything and everything on the road. He figured the dog would give her courage and company as she grew into the adventurer she wanted to be. There was more to adventure than swinging an ax. Amina was fearful, but she could overcome it. Perhaps a companion would giver her grit when she'd be afraid.
And, truth be told, that dog was darn cute.
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When they finally reached Morthal, the road was dark and winding behind them. Meeko proved to be a good companion, although he tended to bark at anything that moved, including, but not limited to, dangerous spiders and butterflies. Very useful when you needed to be alerted of danger, not quite so when you were just strolling about.
"There goes any attempt at stealth you might have, cousin dear."
Amina rubbed Meeko's ears. "A good trade-off if you ask me. Sneaking is for thieves and knaves."
"Sneaking is for people who want to stay alive in dangerous situations. Truth be told I'm not good at it either. I prefer to hack and slash my way through."
She eyed his choice of weaponry. "Aye, that much is obvious."
They made their way into the town. From a distance, its torches and lights seemed like floating wisps in the wind. Everything there seemed unbearably heavy with the weight of fog and humidity. The whole settlement was drowning in deathbell and nirnroot, the ringing of the latter only enhancing the eerie overall appearance of the settlement itself. The houses looked dejected and desolate, even if they were clustered around the edges of the marsh, connected by wooden bridges and pass ways. Twisted trees with heavy branches shaded everything.
The whole place swam in mist and shade, and Amina had to suppress a shiver. She did make sure, however, to fill her alchemist's satchel with many deathbells and lichen, to be used later.
"This place frightens me to the core." Amina whispered, wary of the odd looks the guards were giving them.
"Aye, me as well. Small town, large overbearing presence to it. Be wary, people here mistrust outsiders."
"Let's head to the inn to rest…if this place has any."
Erik nodded slowly. They made their way through murky water and on damp wooden pass ways, until Amina stopped suddenly.
"Oh, what happened?"
Erik turned to look where she was pointing. She was looking at a shell of a house, burn to a crips and collapsed onto itself. The only thing standing was the stonework fireplace.
Amina walked towards it, as if enthralled. Her eyes turned glassy, and her mouth half-way parted. Erik could only look at her as she made her way towards the house with long steps. Meeko growled lowly and whined, settling at Erik's feet.
Her head was swimming. She knew she only saw the house from afar, and then everything turned to feel blurry. She felt like the fog had turned to cloud and was gripping at the fabric of her clothes and armour. She didn't feel entirely like herself. Her whole body felt heavy, her limbs like logs.
She felt a voice make light through the fog in her head. It was piercing and melodic, a woman's voice.
"Mortal, prove yourself worthy to be my Champion. I have chosen you to cleanse my temple, but for now, other foul undead require your material intervention on my behalf. Prove yourself worthy by this task, and after cleansing my temple, and I shall grant you my boon."
"Do I really have a choice?" Amina's voice asked in her head.
If voices could smirk, then this one was positively doing it. "No. Now go forth, Champion, banish the undead in my name."
Amina found herself in front of the burned house, with Erik a few feet behind her, looking at her queer. She sighed. Just her luck, to be contacted by ethereal beings just as she started adventuring. And on a quest against the undead, too! She trembled like a leaf in the wind. However, no matter how frightened, you do not go against beings that have the power to speak to you in your head. It was logical.
She entered what was left of the house. A deep breath. Then another. She could do this. She'd taken on a few living bandits, what harm could some decrepit corpses do to her?
However, it wasn't a decrepit corpse that was waiting for her in that shell of a house.
It was the ghost of a little girl, playing in the ashes.
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Author's note: Thanks for reading! I love Meeko, he's been my super pal through this playthrough. I cheated and resurrected him via console more than i should have.
As always, Skyrim and all things in it are not mine. I would probably be ritcher than Maven Black-Briar if they were.